What If
by PersianFreak
Summary: What if things had been different? Sookie's hypothetical ramblings. Short one-shot set in my Life Goes On series.


_**What if... **_** by PersianFreak**

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris; Please don't sue.

Rating: T

A/N: A little fun I was having. No particular setting, time wise, but part of my _Life Goes On_ series. Comments and constructive criticism are all welcome.

"What if," I begin, fingers absently running through his absurdly soft hair as he rests his head on my chest.

"'What if' what, lover?" he asks, turning his head to press his lips to my bare skin.

"What if Rene hadn't been a murderer? What if he hadn't killed Dawn and Maudette and... and my Gran?" Eric slides off of my body and props his head up on one hand, the other draped across my stomach.

"Rene?" The name belongs to so long ago, to the time before my life as I know it now had truly begun, and I understand why he's frowning, why this look of puzzlement is painting his handsome features.

"What if I had never asked Bill to bring me to Fangtasia and we had never met? Worse, what if we had met and I had left Bill to sleep with you and you never looked at me twice?"

"That never would have happened," he tells me confidently. _But what if it had?_

"What would you have done? If things had turned out differently, if we had made different decisions." _What if I hadn't been what you chose?_

"We would have met eventually." There it is again, that absolute conviction. "I'm his boss. I would have found out about his telepathic girlfriend and I would have found a way to see you, and I would have fallen for you."

"Under different circumstances, maybe you wouldn't have." I smile sweetly because he's skimming over the fact that he just wanted to get laid at first; the loving thing came much later.

"Explain," he orders and I stroke the side of his face.

"Under different circumstances, maybe I would have slept with you. I wouldn't have stood out if I had. Or maybe I would have... been less feisty, or less... whatever it was that made you remember me. Do you see what I'm saying?" He clearly is not, so I continue. "I don't think you understand how much depends on the smallest of details, how the littlest things could have changed where we are right now."

"You're right, love. I don't."

I sigh. "Okay. Think of it this way; if we hadn't met, then you wouldn't have deemed me strong enough to go look for Bill when he disappeared. You would have found someone else to do the job, or you would have had no choice but to tell Sophie-Ann. I never would have been staked in Jackson, you never would have given me your blood, I would never have developed feelings for you when you took care of me and drove me home. Without it, I wouldn't have been your _heart's desire_ and you wouldn't have ran towards my house when you were bewitched, which wouldn't have mattered because I wouldn't have stopped for you anyways-"

"Alright, alright, I get it," he interrupts, holding up a hand. Pleased, I entwine my fingers with those of his upheld hand and he places another kiss, this time over my ribs. "I think you're wrong."

"Oh?"

A nod. "I would have come to you after his disappearance regardless; you were his mate and I would have assumed you had the information I needed. I would have told you the truth about him because I wouldn't have cared, and you would have gone after him because you _did_ care. I would have followed you, I would have given you my blood, and you would have loved me for it. You _would_ have stopped for me on the side of the road because I _would_ have run to you; you were the only thing that held any attraction for me. You would have, in this hypothetical world as well."

"And I would have fallen for you when you stayed with me?"

"Of course. Just as I would have fallen for you." He seems so matter-of-fact about it and I wonder at how far we've come, from barely admitting we care about each other to... this. Here and now, entangled in each other physically as well as emotionally. Satisfied, I sit up the bed and push him back to straddle him, letting my lips express just how thrilled I am that he did, in fact, fall for me.

"What if..." I murmur later and Eric's arms tighten around my middle from where he's lying behind me, my body fitted into his.

"'What if' what, dear one?"

"What if you hadn't admitted to yourself that you loved me?" I want to twist around to see him, to let him know that it's something I wonder about quite often. Me – I was the human, the one who accepted she loved even when her pride got in the way, but he... Eric had so much to work through, so many years spent not needing and not wanting anything beyond physical pleasure. What if he had fought and lost? What if he hadn't fought at all?

I tell him this and watch his eyes soften like he loves me, like he can't believe I'm saying what I'm saying.

"Then I would have been the stupidest vampire to ever live. Or not," he adds with a chuckle.

"I would have been so alone," I muse because it's the truth. Even before we had gotten together I had relied on Eric for the occasional much-needed entertainment. Granted, that entertainment often came in the form of fighting and killing, but there were other times when he had simply been there and that was enough. He's watching me process this and then he presses his soft lips to mine.

"So alone," he repeats and I know he isn't talking about me.

"What if..." I start a few nights later and Eric laughs, shaking the bed. I can't help cracking a smile either.

"'What if' what, my love?" he asks because that's what he does; he plays along.

"What if you find someone else?" My lover is too confused by that to even attempt an appropriate response so I continue. "What if I die and you live on and you find someone else? What if she's everything you could ever ask for, everything you never realized you needed? What if you love her more?"

"What if you die and I live on?" He asks sombrely, his face tucked above my shoulder as I lay on my back and he on his side. Meeting his gaze, I wonder fleetingly at the shade of his blue eyes, at the paleness of his golden lashes. "I would never let that happen," he adds.

"What if it did?"

"What purpose does this serve?" he wants to know, frustration creeping into his eyes for the first time. He doesn't like to think about this; neither do I. There is something so fundamentally flawed with how easily our immortal bodies can crumble. A well-aimed pencil or a well-placed silver letter-opener: all it takes to undo thousands of years spent waiting, watching as men and women are born and grown and killed, born and grown and gone.

"It's just a thought. Just something to consider."

"I can't imagine wanting anything more, can't imagine loving anyone more," he tells me and my undead heart gives a painful squeeze. "I can't fathom living on without you."

"But you will." He frowns at me; am I dismissing how much he loves me, he seems to be asking. "It's what you do, Eric. You survive."

"What if _I_ die and _you_ live on?"

I smile, "See, I'm not burdened with the responsibility of surviving. I won't let myself live on without you."

"Why not?"

"Because I did it for you. I chose immortality for you. Why would I want it without you?"

The bond swells with warmth and he moves closer to me, pressing his naked body against mine. "What if you found someone else and you loved him more than me?"

"I can't imagine that," I tell him, tapping his nose with a finger and smiling at the reversal of our roles.

He pauses, back to considering what I had been asking. "Remember how I said this was right?"

"When we made love," I nod, smiling. Yes, when all cards had been laid out on the table. When we had, in our blind pride, continued pretending we didn't love as deeply as we did.

"You can't have something _more_ right. You can't go beyond perfection."

"What if what you thought was perfection was just a cheap knock-off?" He curls a hand around my hip and I nudge his calf away with a toe so I can tangle my leg with his.

"It's not a cheap knock-off. You're the real thing, my love."

"What if..." _What if I had run away some more? What if you had run away and I hadn't been able to keep up? What if we had missed out on this?_ I want to ask. I want to know. I want him to tell me that he would have chased me to the ends of the earth, that he hadn't been running at all, that this goes too far beyond our petty pride for us to have missed out on it. But instead of all of these, instead of me asking and he reassuring, he just kisses me.

"Hush, Sookie," he whispers and it's enough because we did meet, we did fall in love, we did care and we did run and we did fight.

We did love and we do love and we will love.

"I would have been lost," my love tells me later.

"What?"

"If we hadn't..." He doesn't need to clarify. "I would have been lost."

"Me too." I clutch his hand and he kisses my forehead. _We did and we do and we will_, I think to myself.

"No more _and_s, _if_s or _but_s?"

"None at all."


End file.
